


Too Late

by FangirlFromTheUnderworld



Series: Sad, angsty and bloody Destiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas is not so good, Dean is sad, Destiel Angst, Everyone's sad, M/M, SAD VERY SAD, Sam is sad, dean/cas - Freeform, supernatural angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlFromTheUnderworld/pseuds/FangirlFromTheUnderworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had gotten the call sometime after 2 in the morning. He had barely shouted at Sam to wake up before he was rushing out of the house, starting the impala and yelling at Sam to hurry up. The taller man had just gotten in and Dean had slammed on the gas, leaving Sam’s door open because he didn’t have time to wait. </p>
<p>Castiel was dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

Dean had gotten the call sometime after 2 in the morning. He had barely shouted at Sam to wake up before he was rushing out of the house, starting the impala and yelling at Sam to hurry up. The taller man had just gotten in and Dean had slammed on the gas, leaving Sam’s door open because he didn’t have time to wait. 

Castiel was dying. 

Every second that was spent in that car ride was infused with tension, Sam glancing concernedly at Dean who was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were pale white. Dean yelled at Sam when he asked how the was, and there was no more conversation after that. 

“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if I’m alright Cas is dying damnit!” His voice broke on the last word, but he didn’t clear his throat or pretend it didn’t happen. Sam looked away. 

Dean's eyes were wide with rage, and fear. Fear had curled in his stomach, making him want to throw up and laugh and cry at the same time. He had never been this afraid any other time in his life, on any other hunt or kill. 

When the impala’s wheels ground to a halt, Dean slammed the door open hard enough to break it and wrenched it shut just as hard. He pounded off to the cabin hidden behind thick foliage and trees and whatever else roamed the forest at that time of night. Sam hurriedly ran to the trunk and snatched two shotguns and a flask of holy water to arm themselves. He didn’t bother yelling for Dean to wait, he knew that the man wouldn’t listen. 

Dean had pounded down a path that he knew would lead to his angel. The demon on the phone hadn’t given him coordinates per say, but he had dropped a few hints. His boots suddenly stopped sprinting across gravel and started tearing up mushy moss and grass. He looked up at the summer cabin he had visited as a teenager, the place of many secret loves and hook ups. It served a different purpose now. The glass windows were all smashed, with plywood behind them, and there was barbed wire lining the roof. It looked sad and eerie, like a house from a horror flick. His heart had plummeted when he thought of what could have gone on inside that house, how long Castiel could have been trapped with the sick bastards. 

Dean remembered hearing Sam’s footsteps growing near as he rammed his foot into the lock on the door, not quite breaking it. He couldn’t hear anything coming from inside, no matter how hard he strained his ears. Sam grabbed his sleeve from behind and Dean stepped back when he saw the shotgun in his younger brother’s arms. The lock exploded off with a cracking sound and Dean kicked the door open without another panicked thought. 

The dust was thick around the door when he crept inside, suddenly cautious now that he was closer. It was dark, and the air smelled like dirt, blood and rotting meat, mixed with the forest and rust. Through the dark was glints of metal cast from various hooks and saws and horrible looking torture devices placed carefully around the room. There was a dripping steadily echoing around the small room. Sam slapped a flashlight into Dean’s hand, and they had only needed to shine them up to find Castiel. 

Dean’s mouth dropped open in horror. He felt the blood rush from his head and he heard vaguely as Sam gasped, flashlight dropping from his hand. A drop of ruby liquid hit Dean on the forehead, and the snake of fear coiled in his stomach reared, turning into terror and anguish. It choked his throat, and Dean stared up for 3 seconds before he was able to return the movement to his body. 

Castiel’s eyes were not fixed on anything in the room, staring at Dean’s shoulder with a greyer blue than he used to have. With each limb pinned to the ceiling with metal bolts, there were drops of blood steadily dripping into large puddles the Winchester’s had not noticed when they came in. more blood was being drained from Castiel's body by way of a slash on his stomach, exposed because his button up shirt had been cut in half to parade his injuries. Like some sort of bizarre Jesus, Castiel was strung up on the ceiling, and that was when Dean noticed a flame at the heel of Castiel’s foot. He barely had time to shout a warning at Sam and whimper out Cas’ name before it caught onto the angel’s skin and traveled up his body like he had been soaked in lighting fluid. Dean and Sam fell to the floor as there was a woosh and flame engulfed Castiel’s body. Dean screamed, staring at the fire even though it hurt his eyes in the absence of the previous darkness. 

Castiel’s eyes had picked up a spark of awareness as the flame rushed up his body, and his mouth stretched open and screamed, a wail of agony as his skin blistered and burnt like marshmallows. Dean stripped of his jacket and started desperately trying to snuff out the fire on the low ceiling, yelling at Sam to help him. Sam was doing the same thing in the blink of an eye, though he knew it was too late for Castiel. 

The sound coming from Castiel’s mouth started to fade, and he was thrashing his head back and forth, trying to get away from the hurt consuming his body, and Dean had tears streaming down his face as he watched pieces of Castiel’s shirt fall burning to the floor. Most of his body was black, but his face was being mainly spared, so Dean could see every tear tracking down Cas’ face, every twist in his expression. 

Sam had stopped trying to put it out with his jacket at some point because he had spied a hose in the corner. He turned it on full blast, ignoring the fact that it squirted all over his jeans, and turned it on to Castiel. Dean had thrown his jacket away and was trying to pull Castiel down, despite the fact that the bolts screwed into the angel’s hands and feet were in the way. But the burnt and frail wood behind them gave way, and Dean pulled a now whimpering Castiel crashing into his arms, sobbing apologies into his hair as he cradled his burnt body as best he could. Sam stayed put, watching sorrowfully a few feet away. 

Castiel was staring at Dean’s green eyes with his own unfocused blue ones, but he didn’t move. He didn’t try, like he knew it was pointless. He was dying, the cut in his stomach must have been made with an angel blade, and even he could never survive what had just happened. Dean flicked his eyes in horror as he watched a burnt piece of Castiel's leg skin slide off, like the back off of a sticker. 

Dean lowered them to the floor carefully, shaking his head and sobbing with Castiel’s head cradled in his arm. With his other hand he stroked Cas’ face, careful to avoid any burnt patches or cuts. Castiel was still staring at Dean, with his mouth open like he wanted to say something, but his chest and neck had been burned so badly, there was no way he could make a sound right now. Dean cried harder and put his forehead lightly against Cas’. “No,” He heaved out, “no, no Cas, no.” 

He was trailing his hands all over Cas’s face, and pulled his head back to stare back into the dying man’s dull unwavering eyes, which were growing fainter by the moment. Dean felt movement by his side, and looked wretchedly over to find Castiel trying to move his hand, though it still had a metal bolt through the wrist. Dean saw Cas’ face spasm in more pain as the hand fell back again, and Dean snatched it up, being very careful of the bolt. Castiel seemed to relax a smidge, and blinked lazily, and when he opened his eyes he looked seconds from death. 

Dean put his forehead to Cas’ started whispering in his ear, mostly apologies for not being soon enough, telling him to hold on, asking him to stay longer. “I love you.” Dean murmured brokenly in Castiel’s ear, tears still running like a river down his face. 

Cas tilted his head up slightly, and looked mouthed the words silently and slowly. Dean gasped out another sob as he recognized was Castiel was mouthing, ‘I love you too.’ He cried clutched Castiel closer as he registered another word the dying man mouthed. ‘Good bye’. 

Dean whispered ‘I love you’ into Castiel’s ear until the light was gone from the blue eyes, and what little life there was in the desecrated body had left. Sam was standing silently next to Dean, not saying a word with tears running down his face, though not as many as Dean. Dean tightened his grip on the body, yelling his name over and over though he knew he was gone. 

They had gotten back to the bunker hours later, when dawn was breaking and the air was crisp and clean. Both of them were silent, with the body of a loved one in the back seat and grief still fresh in the air. Dean was still crying a bit. 

Sam wrapped the body in a white sheet, Dean couldn’t bare to do it. Sam had expected this, and wouldn’t have asked his brother to do it in a million years. 

They didn’t give Castiel a hunter’s burial, consequences be damned. It seemed too wrong to burn the body after how the life had been taken, and they buried it in a nice spot in the woods near the bunker. It was Dean’s favourite place to come, where the trees were just thin enough that light would shine through, but you couldn’t see the sky through the leafs. You could always hear the stream babbling, and plants rustling or animals moving through the foliage. They lied him to rest near a patch of wildflowers, hopefully those would cover the grave in time. Dean had looked them up later to find they were called ‘Delphinium’, bright blue tiny flowers growing in bunches. 

They had a medium sized boulder for the headstone, and used a hunting knife to carve letters into it as best they could. Sam had done the carving, and some of the letters were a little big, but it looked good. Dean sniffled a bit, but didn’t cry. 

When they were all done, Sam walked back to the bunker with his shovel and a somber expression. There would be no smiling or laughing that night. There wouldn’t be any for a long, long time. Dean stood and stared at the grave a long time, before moving. 

He sat Indian style on the ground, right where Castiel’s feet should be, and bowed his head in prayer. He folded his hands, and placed his chin atop them, face furrowed in concentration. 

He prayed for 10 minutes, before he opened his eyes and stared at the grave again. His heart gave a pang when he thought about the flowers, and how the shade of blue was so close to Castiel’s eyes. He would never see those eyes again.

He stumbled to his feet, legs in the process of falling asleep from being still so long. He took one last look at the grave inscription before he walked away, eyes red and still a bit puffy. 

Here lies Castiel  
Angel of the Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so tell me what you think! Angry rants, hate comments, sad rants, anything!


End file.
